Disagreements and Situations
by Quin13
Summary: Ptolemy gets ambushed by demons sent by his cousin. Life threatening situations ensue, an argument to test their friendship and the reappearance of some very much unwanted faces.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own nowt.**

**Authors note: Ok just wanted to say this is the first fic I've EVER done, so you know…be nice. But I do want critique, I want to know how well I managed to get Bartimaeus in character (probably not by much, but I really did try!) and if you don't think he is then I want you to tell me what's wrong and how I can make him more in character when I possibly write my next one. **

**But if you wanna just read it and not give me a review that's fine too :D**

Chapter 1

Well, to be quite frank, things couldn't get much worse. We were currently trapped in a, more than likely booby trapped, temple waiting for an inevitable untimely death to come to us. Which it would, eventually.*

(*I guess it would be worse once said 'untimely death' showed up, but you know me, I always look on the bright side.)

Before that though, we'd been running for our lives through the sandy streets of some suburb in Alexandria, legging it past mud houses and kicking up dust, getting chased by a demented goat*. Needless to say I was having a wonderful day. Or night, it was about 1 o'clock in the morning by now.

(* It was a spirit, we weren't _actually_ being chased by a demented goat. Just checking, sometimes you lot are a bit dense.)

How does this happen to a great entity such as me? Well, when your stubborn little companion thinks it's prudent to start an argument in the middle of the spice market so you don't notice the cloaked guy that's been tailing you for the past half hour, it's pretty easy. This was Ptolemy's fault. *

(*I swear, if I tell him one more time 'his cousins going to kill him if he's not careful' and he's not careful I won't be responsible for my actions*)

It'd been alright for a while. We'd ran for a bit, Ptolemy had got a bit red in the face and fainty, and eventually we'd found an old disused temple to hide in. It got cripplingly boring after a couple of hours, but Ptolemy didn't look like he was dying from oxygen deprivation anymore and it gave me a chance to continue what I was saying before said murderous entity annoyingly waylaid us, so it wasn't all bad.

"As I've said before, you don't need to finish the thing! The intentions there! Can't that be enough?"

"Rekhyt, do be reasonable," said the dark skinned boy opposite testily. "How will I ever finish my book without knowing whether it will actually work?"

The place we were in was long and high with typical vulgar Egyptian wall art and rows of statues and pillars either side of us. A wisp-light I'd thrown up hung above us, bathing the area we were currently in with white light.

Ptolemy was sitting on the main shrine at the end of the hall, or more specifically on the dais at the gods feet, leaning back on his hands. He looked egyptian, except for the greek chiton he was wearing.*

(* Which, in my opinion, made him look more like a girl than he normally did, but fashion advice normally went over his head. I didn't bother telling him.)

The summerian youth leant against the pillar nearest him, arms crossed in defiance whilst handsome ringlets fell around his face, artfully dishevelled from the recent run*. A stylish sickle sword hanging from his hip for added effect.

(*This was in contrast to Ptolemy, who looked like he'd been dragged through a particularly malevolent looking hedge backwards.)

"Well then don't! Save it! We have more pressing matters, like the fact you seem to be determined that both of us are going to die at the hands of your cousin!" Ok, that was a bit harsh I'll admit, but we were running for our lives, very bored and we'd been saying the same things over and over for hours, even me with my usual patient and equable demeanour was getting testy.

"I've told you before, you greatly over estimate my cousin. Normally you would have whisked me away before any of this had happened and I would be safe now. I have every confidence in you. I do not need to leave Alexandria and my studies," replied Ptolemy, his tunic askew, and his hair more reminiscent of the nest of a particularly incompetent, and possibly half blind, bird than anything else.

He said it like I was being overly cautious…like he'd forgotten that we were actually _in_ our current situation.

"But I didn—!"

"If I leave I may not be able to come back, and without the library there's no guarantee I can complete my work. I'm not going!"

I decided to drop it then, arguing with him never did much good. There was silence for a time*.

(* It lasted the great length of two seconds. Let's face it, this was me.)

"And another thi—."

"Do you think he's given up perhaps?" Asked Ptolemy curiously from his perch.

There was a great bang against the doors on the other side of the room, the one's we'd just entered through. I could've killed him.

"You just had to say it!"

"Oh, please, that goes against all laws-"

The noise sounded again. We looked towards the door and saw dust falling from around the frame.

"Maybe we had better move to another room?"

"No, actually, I think we should stay here, it's nice and we have whatever's outside to keep us company when it gets in." He shot me a reproachful look. *

(*Well, really, did he just expect me to be nice to him just cause I'd let it drop?)

The noise came again, more dust fell to the floor. Ptolemy was staring at it like dirt particles were suddenly the single most terrifying thing on the planet. I scanned the room calmly with my usual level-headedness.

"Err, Rekhyt, I do believe the door to the next room is behind the statue. The one I was just sitting on." I turned and caught sight of it.

"I know that! Shut up and let me think will you, I think we need to find out how to open it!" I moved behind the statue out of Ptolemy's sight.

"Aren't you meant to be the one that isn't panicking, Rekhyt?"

I kept silent. I was far too busy with the mechanism on the door. Besides, replying to a comment like that was below me.

Ptolemy was round by my shoulder now, he'd probably wanted to get as far away from the soon-to-be-demolished entrance as he could. The bang came for a fourth time, this time we heard the wood splinter.

"You know, I've had just about enough of this door." I blew it apart with a couple of detonations. It was way better than 'big bad' was doing with the other one.

The wood of said other one caved in with the next blow, sending bits of sharp edged mahogany flying around the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Jonathan Stroud. I just like messing with his characters.**

**Authors note: REVIEW! **

Chapter 2

We scarpered through the newly blasted doorway (my one) and into a maze of corridors and rooms that all looked as gratingly similar as one another. And they went on forever.

Whatever this thing behind us was it obviously wasn't one for walking around stuff, but the crashes of statues getting blasted to pieces eventually died off after a while. Apparently, the thing was now as lost as we were.

We stopped for a bit when the sounds had completely faded out. Ptolemy slid down a nearby column to sit on the floor, red, sweaty and panting, again*. This room was emptier than the others. There was a large pool in the middle of the floor which told me this had probably been some sort of bathhouse. I threw up some more dim wisp-light's to float around and give us some better vision.

(*Sometimes I really wonder how you lot manage to function, we'd only gone through about twelve rooms, that was just over a mile, tops. I swear you'd think he was dying.)

The summerian stood in the doorway which we'd just walked in through, his muscled back to him, keeping keen watch for signs of incoming danger*

(*imminent danger is probably a better description. The thing chasing us might have had all the cunning and intellect of a common garden slug but if you crash through enough walls you're bound to find something eventually i.e. us.)

"Still don't want to leave Alexandria?" I asked, with a smirk over my shoulder.*

(*you might be thinking I'm being unusually mean to the boy tonight. You also might be wondering why I didn't just carry him through all those rooms. Well, he needed to be taught a lesson. He needed to see how much danger he was in. Trust me, it's got nothing to do with the fact that I think he's being a right stubborn little twat at the moment, really, anger doesn't come into it, the great Bartimaeus is above that sort of pettiness.)

"No…. of…of course not," the egyptian boy replied peevishly, still dying*.

(*soon to be actually dying once this thing found us.)

I turned back to the darkness of the room beyond. It was the worst mistake I could've made. I heard Ptolemy yell, a yell that was quickly muffled by something.

I span round, he wasn't there, nothing was, just my wisp-lights lighting the room with their pale white glow casting shadows on the statues and pillars, making the pool sparkle like cut glass.  
Ice went down my spine. I scanned the room on the seventh plane frantically. Nothing.

Then something walked from behind a pillar in the middle of the room. Not something, someone. Someone with all the grace and poise of a bull elephant, and just as pretty.

"Really Bartimaeus, you almost looked like you cared then." Said the djinni in a lofty voice. On the first plane he'd have been swathed in shadow, the wisp light didn't stretch that far, on the seventh though he was revealed in all his glory.

The muscles on the summerians toned shoulders tightened.

"Hello, Faquarl." My voice was ice.

"Nice to see you again, Bartimaeus."*

(*Sarcasm, honestly, the lowest from of wit. Faquarl was as classy and debonaire as ever.)

I sighed, mostly to cover my slip up. "I suppose you've been sent by Rome. I was wondering when my masters cousin would put himself in their pockets, none of the so-called priest's round here would've been able to summon you."

"That comment says far more about you than it does me, I'm sure"*

(*ouch.)

I shrugged."Still a slave though, aren't you? That bid for freedom not going too well?"

I was stalling him, of course. I had to figure out a way out of this. There was an interesting sheen to the pool, it was definitely cursed in some way. It made me wonder what would happen if Faquarl accidentally fell in it.

"I'm disappointed, Bartimaeus." I looked up. "Not even you're normally this slow on the uptake."

"Huh?"

He rolled his eye's."I'm stalling you."

"YOU'RE stalling ME?" I said incredulously. Then the penny dropped.

I suddenly felt numb.

"There's two of you!"

"Ooh, well done."

"Where's Ptolemy!" I snapped, forgetting my affectation of indifference. Faquarl looked genuinely taken aback.

"Honestly Bartimaeus. What are you, close to the boy?" The djinni replied sounding confused and amused at the same time. "Don't turn into Ammet on me will you?"

That was it, time to put my newfound plan into effect. I ran at him, to all intents and purposes it looked like I was attacking. That's what he thought.

Faquarl held up his hand, inferno twirling round his fat Nubian fingers. He threw, I feinted to the left, it went over my shoulder to burn the patch of wall next to the doorway I'd just been standing near.

I ran up the wall. Down the other side behind him, jumping the last bit and landing in a crouch gracefully. He turned. A detonation hit my side and sent me flying forward at an angle, skidding along the floor, almost into the pool on our right. I managed to get up and away just as another one burned the tiles where I'd lay. I ran, moving erratically so Faquarls attacks didn't hit. He lobbed another. I heard it rush past my ear.

Sooner or later my luck was going to run out. I turned, the fat Nubian slave was walking towards me now both hands glowing, casting his contours in an unflatteringly harsh light*

(*if he was painful to look at before, it was nothing on now, trust me.)

I was almost backed against the wall, really hoping he didn't decide to throw those combustions before he'd moved another two steps.

There. Perfectly placed.

I hit a stone that was sticking out of the back wall. It was a rather obvious big circular thing painted bright red. It practically screamed 'press me'.

Another stone grated open, this one to the side of Faquarl. He looked left. A jet of water shot out of the newly formed hole, hitting the djinni straight in the side and, rather conveniently, sending him crashing into the pool where he was sent struggling to the dark depths.

I couldn't spend time revelling in my defeat of Faquarl though*, I had bigger things to worry about, things in the form of a skinny egyptian kid in a tunic and whatever spirit he was currently in the claws of.

(*and that that had actually worked.)

Time to find Ptolemy.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuttin'. **

**Authors note: Reviews are appreciated, i love them seriously. even one word ones ;p**

Chapter 3

It was freezing now, the warmth that had spread through him from the exertion had faded leaving him in a room only fit for keeping meat fresh.

The spirit who'd dragged him here had sent wisp-light up above them to illuminate the place, like Rekhyt had in the last room. It was a huge place, much larger than the others they'd passed through. There were columns of alcoves lined next to each other with space between them for people to walk up and down, some of the structures still had old scrolls of papyri resting in them, covered in dust and yellowing with age. He was going to die in a library, he could've laughed.

It was between two of these columns that he'd been forced to kneel. He hadn't been tied or gagged, he didn't need to be, if he uttered anything the sounded like an incantation the spirit in front of him would kill him before he got out the second syllable. A thought occurred to him.

"May I ask something?" He said, surprising even himself with how level his voice was.

"Yes," said the black shadow, it had his back to him, standing about three metres away, it was humanoid, but much larger than the average human. It sounded annoyed that he'd spoke.

"Why am I not dead?" The spirit laughed, hollow and cruel. It turned sideways to face him.

"Because we've been ordered to torture you first. Your cousin apparently wants your secrets as well as your life. That is why I'm here." A horrible smile played around his lips. "Don't worry, your djinni should be dead by now, my companion will be coming to find us. It'll be over soon enough."

There was a pause in which the boy stared at the floor.

"Scared for your life, child?"

"No. My djinni, not that it matters really. Not to you." The black shape in front of him looked at him in, from what he could tell from the almost non-existent face, sudden interest.

"You care for your slave?" He turned around fully, walked to the Egyptian boy and knelt in front of him so they were almost eye level.

"Maybe," said Ptolemy, wishing devoutly that this vile thing would move back to where it was.

It changed then, from the shadow into an egyptian man, a priest; bald head, plain wrap around skirt and a rather official leopard skin cloak draped around his shoulders. Big wet eyes stared at him with something like wonder.

"I'm Ammet," it said, all anger and cruelty gone from the voice.

Everything clicked into place. "Oh…"

"You've heard of me?"

"Yes, and the magician Khaba. Stories and such, just hearsay from texts," said Ptolemy quickly. Then a question occurred to him.

"Why did you care for Khaba? It does seem he didn't do much for you."

The spirit paused. "It started in Karnak when he'd been nothing but an apprentice, a child like you. He summoned me and I watched as he grew. I began to admire him. I admired him for his thirst for pain and death and cruelty, watched as he was oppressed by the priests because they feared him for it. He was like me.

"He came to realise this over time, that I wasn't scared of him, I didn't think he was a monster. He was grateful. He started giving me privileges, gaining my trust. It worked. We became almost equals, he even let me travel with him and help with his experiments, he saw that I was better than those snivelling slaves that pandered to him. And so I treated him with the utmost respect he deserved. We were friends for a long time."

"But he never treated you as an equal?"

The priest's expression went cold. "I was a slave, he treated me far better than he needed to, and he treated me with just punishment when I failed him. Do not insult him!" Ptolemy flinched.

"Sorry, I was just…" There was a pause.

"Why does your spirit love you?" Asked Ammet, breaking the silence. The egyptian boy decided to throw caution to the wind. Maybe he'd be killed quickly if he angered the marid enough.

"Because I have no upper hand over him. We are equals. He was not like you, he was cynical, untrusting, he was too old for anything else. I used no punishments, no long summonings, he barely even went outside the pentacle. I treated him with kindness. All I summoned him for was to answer questions.

After a time he asked what I was doing, I told him about my work, that I wanted to find a way to free spirits from their enslavement. Eventually, I won his trust, I didn't expect to but I did." Ptolemy felt hollow, there wasn't much hope Rekhyt was still alive. He felt his eyes sting, looked at the floor.

Then breathed, recovered. He wouldn't cry, not here. And maybe there was still hope.

When he looked up the priest was staring at him, head cocked to one side with a strange expression on his face, confusion mixed with sadness, maybe even betrayal. The spirit said nothing.

"Can you do something for me?" Said Ptolemy.

There was no emotion in his voice when he spoke again. "If you want a quick death then you can give me your secrets now and I will tell my companion, when he finds us, that you tried to escape. It will be sufficient an outcome to not warrant punish—."

"No!" Ptolemy said urgently. If there was any time left, it was running out fast. "I need you to let me do something to try to sa—"

From behind Ptolemy, in the dark depths of the library, there came an almighty roar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: everything belongs to Mr J. Stroud. if they belonged to me this wouldn't be on .**

**Authors Note: i love reviews. hint hint.**

Chapter 4

Ptolemy swivelled in his sitting position.

The spirit kneeling before him rose to his feet.

Now would've been the perfect time for an obscenity*.

(*Shit, was the word that came to mind.)

I was a lion-headed warrior at this point, tall and muscular, with a flowing main and teeth like daggers. It was a guise that would have instilled fear in any great entity. But this was Ammet.

"You are not Faquarl."

"He felt like a swim, might be a while."

He smiled, and not in an 'I'm gonna kill you now' way, like he actually found what I just said mildly funny*.

(* I swear, if I wasn't scared out my wits before, I was now.)

He was looking at me like I was something curious. A confused expression took over my lion's face which Ammet must've noticed.

He obviously hadn't looked on the seventh plane,* but even if I had been just some other spirit this was just weird.

(*I wasn't looking forward to the outcome if/when he did.).

Things couldn't get much worse.

"So you're the djinni who cares for this boy?"

You have got to be kidding me!*

(*Disregarding the fact that this situation was now bordering on apocalyptic. Who the hell has long meaningful conversations about slavery with the entity that's intending to torture and murder them!)

Ptolemy had the decency to look guilty.

Ammet spoke next in a matter of fact tone. "If Faquarl is indisposed then this makes my offer a lot easier to make. Our initial orders were to kidnap the boy, get whatever secrets he may be hiding and then kill him. We intended to torture it from him, I was looking forward to it in fact, but I would make an exception and kill him quickly if he gives us his secrets willingly."

"That's mighty good of you."

As far as I could see I only had one option. I blasted Ammet with everything I had i.e. a dentonation the size of my head*. Khabas form shattered into wisps and dissipated. It wouldn't last long.

(*the lions head, just in case you were wondering.)

"Run!" I screamed at Ptolemy.

He scrambled from the floor and legged it past me. I turned to follow the kid into the unlit depths of the rows of scrolls, back the way I'd come. I just had time to see Ammet start to pull himself together* before I disappeared from view.

(*No pun intended.)

It took about ten minutes of us winding our way through the maze of shelving units before Ptolemy realised something was off.

"Rekyht?" He whispered in my lion's ear. He was holding my upper arm at this point due to us running in the dark. Wisp-lights would've been a problem right then as they'd have led Ammet straight to us. "You do remember the way out of this library, don't you?"*

(*Well, no, actually I'd been too busy looking for Ptolemy to pay much attention to looking where I was going. I was pretty sure it was in this general direction though…maybe.)

"Yes, yes, of course I do," I said with my trademark self-assurance.

"You don't sound very self-assured."* I was looking on the seventh plane so I could see his expression. The raised eyebrow. I opened my mouth to speak.

And a detonation blasted the shelving to our left to bits, fragments of wood shot everywhere. The one's that hit me didn't matter, Ptolemy though would be left with a couple of cuts and bruises. Blood seeped through the now ripped sleeve of his tunic and there was a small cut on his head.

I grabbed the boy by the arm, dragging him up the aisle. The time for stealth was over. I was about to sprout wings when another attack sent me flying forwards, Ptolemy dragging along the floor behind me.

I heard Ammet shout from behind us as we got rather unsteadily to our feet, Ptolemy limping on his left foot and me with essence trailing from my hairline and into my eye. I wiped it away with my hand. My back hurt too, from where the convulsion had hit it, something wet trickled down from the point of pain.*

(* This whole situation was ridiculous. we'd been arguing about how not to get Ptolemy killed, and now Ptolemy was getting killed because of it. The world's worst writer wouldn't even come up with this one.)

Ammet was standing not three metres from us, Khaba's guise reformed in all its hideous glory. He looked vaguely annoyed, amazing considering I'd tried to blow him to pieces, he should've been furious.

"I said I'd do you both a favour, don't throw it back in my face or I'll kill you both." It was a warning. It wasn't much of one, what did he think, I was going to just give him over saying 'oh that's fine, just kill him quick'?

Ptolemy was behind me. I knew I didn't have the strength left for another attack that would blow the marid apart, and no doubt he'd just see it coming anyway. I made a quick decision.

"Ptolemy," I hissed at him." Get out of here." And to my great relief, that's what he did, disappearing back into the black maze of scrolls.

Ammet laughed. "You wish to die first do you? Well that's fine, I'll just find your master later."

And with that he pounced. I dodged the attack, downsized, became an average lion* and, with perhaps more agility than a bog standard lion would usually have, scrambled up one of the scroll shelves, another attack missing my tail by inches.

(*and I mean 'average' in that I wasn't a lion-headed warrior. I was still sleek of coat, shiny of eye, etc)

Ammet didn't bother with the shelves he turned into a grey rhino and rammed his way through them*. The remains of the scroll case fell to the floor around him. He saw me running up the next aisle at full speed. He followed. It was a game of cat and mouse now.

(*It wasn't pretty. He was all warts and lumpy folds of skin. No elegance what-so-ever.)

To be fair, I am the noble djinni who wiped the floor with him the first time. I like to think I wasn't quite down and out yet. Besides, I'm the great Bartimaeus of Uruk, you don't get rid of me that easily.

At least not without me getting a last word in anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. **

**Authors note: so, this one took a while to get up because I added a scene to it. I was never happy with the one I put there and I had a brainwave on how I could make it better and make it fit more into the story. so yeah. sorry it's late if anyone cares ;p. And please review, I love reviews :D**

Chapter 5

Ptolemy ran, he was doing far too much running today, he wasn't used to it. He hated it. And it was dark, and cold. How was he expected to find the way out in this? He couldn't even tell if he was going in the right direction.

But Rekhyt was alive, for the time being, and that's all that mattered.

Suddenly he hit a wall. Well, no, he ran into a wall. He rubbed his head. Wait, a wall, not a shelving unit!

He felt along its cold rough contours until he felt something smooth and set slightly into it. A door. He struggled to get it open, not because it was locked, but because it was heavy. He only managed a few inches before giving up. Ptolemy of Alexandria wasn't made for manual labour. Fortunately, this also meant he was skinny enough to squeeze through the gap he _had_ managed to make.

Apparently, this room had a demonic light system; as soon as he entered the place lit itself up by way of several clear glass bottles in the corners of the room. It was quite small compared to the ones they'd been in, plain, whitewashed walls, a desk by the back wall, woven baskets full of scrolls clustered around it and a lot of odd levers and strands of rope hanging from the ceiling on the wall on his right.

On the other wall there was a huge wall hanging covering most of the space, a map of the temple woven into it, there were dots with lettering underneath what appeared to be important parts of the building but age had made the text unreadable, so it told him nothing.

He rooted through the papers on the desk, brushing dust from them, hoping they'd be more legible. They were egyptian, obviously. Something about traps around the place to stop whoever was Pharaoh at the time entering to destroy it. This could be useful.

He moved onto the baskets.

Ammet was approaching fast, he'd got me in the side ages ago and now I could barely dodge an attack. It was a case of hiding now, running didn't work anymore.

So currently I was a desert cat who'd looked like it'd had better days*, in an alcove, cosying up to a dusty scroll. It was getting a bit bored.

(*It had.)

The cat ventured a look out. And an inferno caught the feline in the side of the face, sending it spinning out of its hiding place to skid along the floor. It came to rest at the end of the aisle and lay still.

Something stepped towards me. I looked up, and saw Khaba's ugly mug staring down at me.

It looked like Ammet was going to get his revenge without even realising*, I had no way out of this one. Then, something of a miracle happened. The room lit up.

(*I took great pleasure in that fact. It was a rather nice thought, Ammet searching for me uselessly for centuries, maybe millennia, when he'd already killed me in 124bc. I'd have liked to have been there just to laugh at him.)

We were both momentarily stunned, me being my quick witted self recovered first. I hit the marid looming over me with the best detonation I could muster. It knocked him back all of about two inches. Alright, it was a stumble but the ferocity was bloody well there.

I legged it as fast as my broken form could carry me.*

(*I was lucky I wasn't trailing essence, Ammet would've had a right nice little path to follow. Not that it actually mattered that much.)

I barely got to the next aisle along before he'd jumped me, much to my chagrin. I didn't even see him coming. I was pushed into the floor before being dragged up by the neck and thrown headlong at the nearest wall of scrolls. I crashed into it taking the whole thing down with me.

The cheek! Didn't I even warrant a proper attack now?

Ptolemy jumped, looking up from the papyri on the desk and twisting to look at the doorway. That had sounded a lot like one of the scroll cases falling over. And it hadn't been that far away.

Open texts cluttered the floor around him like leaves at the bottom of a tree in autumn. It was so frustrating. He knew how to get out, he'd read how to do that a million times, but not how to save Rekhyt.

He threw the one he'd been looking at to the floor with the others and ripped another one from the basket, making a statue of some god or other fall from the desk, he barely noticed. He tore off the string that kept the papyri closed and lay it on the desk. It was the map from the wall, except it hadn't faded. He could read all of it! And it showed where every magical trap was in every room in the building.

His eyes scanned the material quickly, finding the library, hoping there would at least be something there that could possibly be helpful.

Ammet looked up suddenly. Great, I didn't even warrant his full attention now either.

But I'd heard the noise too. Something heavy, falling from a height. Faint, no human could've heard it.

"I don't think your masters left the building, djinni," said Ammet.

I said nothing.

The marid looked at me thoughtfully. "I don't really want to kill you, I just needed to so you wouldn't cause me trouble. Really, I'd like to know more about you and your master. You _are_ like me and mine." He paused."No, I think I'll leave you alive, it would be interesting to meet you again at some point."

I had to try something, anything, to stop him. I had to make him want to kill me more than he wanted to go after Ptolemy.*

(* So much easier if he'd just look on the bloody seventh plane! I swear, how did he expect to meet me again if he didn't have a clue what I looked like? Looks like I was just going to have to enlighten him.)

He had his back to me now, walking away. I screwed up my cat eyes and made a change.

"Tell me, Ammet, before you go, how long exactly did it take you to get out of that bottle?"

Ammet stopped dead. He turned slowly. I already knew what Khaba's face would look like and I was right. Ammet stared at me, wide eyed.

"I'd watch it if I were you, your face might stay like that." Said the Summerian, smirk in place, eyebrow raised in amusement.

"You…"

"Yep."

Your…" He actually took a small step back. You could practically hear his brain trying to process what this all meant.

"And, tell me, how many decades had Khaba been dead before you got out?"

Khaba's stupefied face fell. ''You...''

''And you know what, I should understand now right, Ammet, how you can care for your master? But I don't, I still think you're insane. I mean,what did Khaba ever do for you except make sure you were under his heel? You and me are _nothing_ alike.''

"Bartimaeus…"

"And just a suggestion but you might want to start completing some sentences at—urgh." Ammet had threw himself at me, grabbed me by the throat and and slammed me against the nearest avaliable horizontal object.

Scroll storage spaces aren't very comfortable, I'm telling you. Then again neither was the hand round my neck pinning me to it.

Khaba's face was inches from mine, his face murderous, his breathing heavy*. He'd been waiting for this a while*.

(*The breathing was a little melodramatic for my tastes. Technically we don't even need to breathe.)

(*Not as long as I would've liked though, a thousand years would've been nice. Considering he'd meant to have been in there _thousands_.)

Suddenly the anger was gone. he started laughing. If I had blood, it would've ran cold.

''Yes you are equals, the boy told me. It's an interesting notion. But if it is true then why are you still in Alexandria? Surely you should have taken him from here by now, ran as far as you both could and hid somewhere nobody would find him, what with his cousin trying to kill him and Rome at his back? It's the obvious thing to do, there's no other way around it, staying here is suicide.

''So why haven't you, I wonder? The only reason I can think of is if he's refused to go, refused to listen to your arguments. The boy's said no and you don't get a say in the matter. He's basically given you an _order_ hasn't he? There really isn't much equality in_ that_, is there?''

I had nothing to say to that...I had no comeback for it. There was a pause in which he stared at me for a couple of seconds.

"You know what Bartimaeus? I'm not going to kill you."

"What, my sparkling personality and wit finally won you over?" I asked hopefully, and ok, maybe a bit hollowly too. I actually thought he was going to let us go then. For all of the great length of half a second.

"Oh, no, Bartimaeus." He had a horrible smile on his face, like this was the best scenario he could ever have hoped for.

I knew what he was going to say next before he said it.

"No. I'm going to tie you to this thing, go get your boy and bring him here and make him kneel in front of you. I'm then going to torture him.

"It'll start slow, I'll beat him around a bit get him used to it, make him fear what's coming next. Then I'll cut him open. Cut off a few fingers, toes. I can just hear his screams now. I might even cut him open, leave his organs on the floor. It'll go on for hours, Bartimaeus, maybe days. Maybe he'll even plead for his life, plead for me to stop, for you to help him and you'll be able to do nothing.

"Then maybe I'll leave him there, lying on the floor, crying. You can watch him die then can't you, while he begs, before his death release's you."*

(*Ok, maybe not in so much detail.)

He stood up then, tied me there with a hex, and turned to walk away. I had to try something.

"Ammet, please…"

He stopped for a second, looked over his shoulder at me. "How long really did you expect to delay me killing him anyway, Bartimaeus? He was always going to die. Except, because of your stupidity, he's now going to die slowly and painfully rather than nice and quick. You should have kept your secret really, shouldn't you? In a way that makes all this your fault, doesn't it?" Then he turned away and carried on.

For all of two more steps.

Because that was when silver snow started falling from the ceiling.

The pain was excruciating, not quite Solomon's ring, but bad enough. And it was everywhere this metal powder, coating everything like dust. Including us.

Ammet started running backwards and forwards in pain, running into the scroll cases either side of us, almost knocking them over. Steam coming from Khaba's back, shoulders and head. His hands, melting.

I was too weak for that. The strands of magic tying me to the scroll case released, I fell to the floor and sat there, slumped against the wood behind me. I felt my skin bubbling, burning. Well, if I was going to go, I wasn't going to be running around like deranged imp, I was Bartimaeus of Uruk, I was going with dignity.

My mind wavered a little.

Khaba, was gone now. Off somewhere, his screams echoing somewhere off in the distance.

Ptolemy was safe. Well, safer than two minutes ago anyway.

After a short time I heard footsteps. Something that looked remarkably like a wall hanging fell over my head, covering me from the onslaught.

"We need to get out of here, Rekhyt," said a strangely muffled voice from behind my head. An arm went round me, attempting to drag me to my feet. I got up, albeit without my usual poise, leaning heavily on Ptolemy, pulling the thing further round me like a tent.

"How the hell did you pull this off?" I looked up, but in the sorry state I was in, could barely make out the egyptian boy's hair line let alone any features.

"I do believe we should get you out of this place first." He replied calmly.*

(*Now would've been the time for another witty anecdote, but I let it drop. Best not to insult the small boy saving your life.)

He was practically dragging me to the door, now. He really didn't have much choice. With all the wanton grace of an injured antelope, I obliged and let him, stumbling slightly behind.

We made our way from the building looking more like some weird deformed homeless begger over anything else. Not quite the walk of two beings that had just heroically defeated a marid, I have to say, but it was all right, existing was a much more important commodity right then.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything 'cept the story. the characters and the rest belong to Johnathan Stroud. I just do with them what I wish, muhahaha.**

**Authors note: ok, if you've got to this page because you're actually planning to finish my fic, well done :D...and remember to give me a review i would be very grateful, even if it's 'this is complete crap'. well, no, not really, a 'this is nice' would be better, but anything is great. ;p. anyway, even if you don't review, thanks for reading. **

**and if there's any departs from canon please tell me and I'll fix them. and give me critique on bart, i really tried not to make him too ooc but i dunno how well i did so i'd love if someone could tell me.**

**(ps: and thank you to the reviewer (who i couldn't reply to) that told me i'd spelt lion wrongly as loin. i'd done it for the whole of chp 4 *headdesk*. and the fact you put it in a footnote made me laugh :D)**

Chapter 6

It took us fifteen minutes to get back outside. I was a little less worse for wear by then, being out of the numbing pain of that infernal place.

My master pulled the cloth down from round his mouth that had stopped him breathing in the dreaded dust. It had come from his tunic. The thing looked marginally better with one arm, not by much though.

"That couldn't have all been silver," he said slightly raspily, obviously he'd breathed some of it in. "There was far too much."

We were sitting on the dirt outside recovering a bit, leaning against the wall of the temple, next to the entrance we'd gone in through earlier that night and had just stumbled out of. A single wisp light floated above us. Ptolemy now had the wall hanging round him for warmth*, curled into a ball next to me, hunched over with his knees up to his chin.

(* He must have been freezing, it had the pleasant aroma of damp mould. There was probably a few dead bugs in it too. I'd go so far as to say it was worse than the glorified dress he was wearing underneath. That's how bad it was.)

"Some of it was iron." I said. The Summerian's eyes closed, leaning back on the cool stone behind him, toned legs splayed out in front carelessly, arms hanging limply either side.

"Do you think Ammet's dead?"

"Depends, he might've blasted himself through a wall, I suppose, in desperation, but even if he did I doubt he's in any fit state to come after us."*

(*I thought it likely he was alive. After our shenanigans in there, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd kept his essence together through sheer will power just so he could tear me apart at a later date.)

"So, Ammet _and_ Faquarl came after us? What are the chances of that happ—-"

"Stop avoiding the argument, Ptolemy. It's not going to go away." It came out a bit more venomous than my usual pleasant tone. I was testy, ok, almost dying does that to you... Amongst other things.

I opened my eyes and saw the boy get up and move away from me, pulling the rancid thing tighter round himself. I swear, he hadn't got a sense of smell.

He was standing with his back to me, refusing to look me in the face when he replied in a quiet voice. "Rekhyt, I'm not leaving. My book-"

That was it! I hurled myself to my feet, stormed across to him, grabbed his arm through the material, and swung him round to face me with all the gentleness and caring of a murderous baboon.*

(Which, incidentally, was also probably a good description of my mood right then.)

"YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR BLOODY BOOK! I care about your life! If you stay here there's a good chance you'll die! Honestly, why can't you just be like a normal magician and have some sense of self-preservation!" I laughed coldly. ''Or maybe that's exactly what you are...''

He'd actually looked scared for two seconds, wide-eyed and leaning slightly away from me, then he regained his composure.

"Rekhyt, I'm not refusing to leave Alexandria just to finish my book." He replied, his expression annoyed. "If I do leave now I will never come back and that means I'll never lay foot in the library again. I'll never finish my work without those texts... Wait, what exactly do you mean by 'or maybe that's ex...?" He figured it out then. A silence descended that could've deafened anyone within a two mile radius*. I watched as the boys face went from looking like I'd just slapped him round the face, to something along the lines of murderous*. When he spoke next it was in a voice of very forced calm.

(*That's, of course, if anyone had been in a two mile radius.)

(*I swear, the kid could've made the worlds most hardened murderer-for-hire quail under his apparent wrath. Me? Not a chance. It takes more than that to subdue a great entity like me.)

''Rekyht, I've told you you could leave, didn't I? You're under no obligation to stay and should feel no qualms in going, I have other spirits to protect me. If you are not happy then I'll release you. I'm not keeping you here against your will.''

''Thats complete bull, you know I'm not just going to up sticks and leave you here!''

''You can't make decisions for me, Rekhyt! I don't make them for you. It's_ my_ decision whether I want to stay here, not yours.''

''Thats not the point! You haven't even taken what I've said into account! You've just completely ignored everything I've ever said and just gone ahead and done whatever you wanted! Hows that equality?! You can't even come up with a valid argument to stay! You're just digging your heels in and refusing to budge like a spoiled child! You don't give a damn what I say, all you care about is your bloody boo-!''

Ptolemy lost what was left of his fraying patience. "SHUT UP A MINUTE! I'm not doing this because I want to complete my book, I'm doing it because I want your freedom, you safe!'' He went on. ''If I leave now you shall never be free. I'm doing this to keep you alive and if that's at the cost of my own life, so be it. I want you safe, I don't care about my own safety.'' The fight went out of him about halfway through his speech. He looked at me exasperated.

There was a pause in which I just stood there, probably with my mouth open. I think he expected me to reply.

'' And I _have_ thought about this, I haven't just ignored you! I haven't not listened! It makes more sense for me to stay! If I stay here I only _risk_ death whereas if I go you'll _never_ get your freedom, you'll always be a slave and will die a slave. You know it makes sense."*

(*Well, it wasn't exactly Shakespeare, but he'd made his point.)

I was pretty sure I was meant to say something right now.

"Say something! You knew all this, Rekhyt."

"No. No, I knew you wanted to free the spirits from their slavery. I thought you were staying here because of your stubborn attitude and your zealot's obsession with your work. I didn't know you were staying for me."

"Don't you come in with the former part? Surely it was obvious, 'free all spirits' includes you." He replied. "And I'm not a zealot."

Pause.

"Oh for the gods' sake! You've not been quiet once in the two years I've known you, and now you refuse to speak. Honestly, I think I must have made you hit some sort of record of silence!"

"Was that meant to be a joke?"

"Oh, _now_ you speak!"

Ptolemy had, apparently, had enough. He looked away and walked past me up the street. I turned and watched him kick a rock at the nearest derelict house in a very un-Ptolemy-like way. He actually had 'moody teenager' down pat for a second.

But a thought had occurred to me then, recovering from the shock of Ptolemy's words.

This was all well and good, but what if I died saving him anyway?* My anger came back in full force. I wanted to scream it at him, it was the weak spot in his foolproof reasoning. It had almost happened tonight!

(* And I would, if one of us had to die it would be me, not him.)

"Ptolemy…!" I called up the street after him. Then stopped, the fire in me dwindling. He'd given me the choice, I could go if I wanted. Staying was my choice. Like him staying was his, annoyingly.

And that's what scared me; if I was willing to die for him, what would he do for me? I decided I didn't want to know.

He was about two or three houses down now.

"What?" He stopped, turned to look at me. He sounded defeated. He didn't want to do this anymore. He looked knackered.

"Nothing…" I sighed. I probably sounded just as fed up as he did.

We looked at each other. There was a pause. I didn't quite know what to say.

"Look, can we just go home already, Rekhyt. I'm tired and I just want to sleep, we can continue this in the morning."

I laughed, a smirk on the Summerians face. "Technically, it is morning," I pointed at the horizon beyond the houses and into the desert, where the sky was turning a nice shade of pale pink.*

(*Yes, in the next five minutes we will be ending this tale by walking into a sunrise. Brilliant.)

Ptolemy shook his head at me, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well," I said, sounding my usual cheery and ever-optimistic self again. I walked up to where he was hunched over, looking dead on his feet and stood in front of him, arms crossed, slouching casually. "Since this argument is over for the time being…"

He rolled his heavy eyes, still smiling tiredly.

"…and I don't really fancy dragging you back in this thing." I tugged at the thing calling itself a wall hanging. "I suggest we go."

"Finally." He said turning back round and carrying on walking.

I put my hands in my sword belt and followed him, up the street we'd been running down only a couple of hours earlier. Going back to the place I wanted to drag him by his ear from.

Of course, I now know what it would've been, his answer. I was never going to die for him. It was never going to come to that, because he was going to release me. He was going to set me free whilst he left himself to die…

…but that's history now, isn't it? It doesn't need to be thought about.

Two thousand one hundred and thirty six years of it.


End file.
